Declarative
by kewie351
Summary: Emotional HGRL fic with Remus losing his hope. Hermione tries to save him and the love she has for him. Complete!
1. Declarative

Thank you so much for the support on this story! I'm really getting excited with it! As there are only four types of sentences, it is now halfway done. Please review with any suggestions or encouragement. I really appreciate your reading my work! Now, back to exams, which is what I was supposed to be preparing for...

PART I: DECLARATIVE

Hermione opened the door with a creak, knocking upon it almost as an afterthought. Determination etched her face in mature planes, even as tear streaks gave an innocent glimmer. Curled on his bed, facing away from the door, Remus couldn't see this, but he'd heard her coming up the stairs, smelled her entering the room, and he recalled the tears she'd cried just fifteen minutes ago, when he had returned from what was supposed to be a suicide mission.

He'd apparated directly into a Death Eater hideout, one that was only accessible by apparition. Disappointingly enough, there were only three there, and the fog bomb he'd stolen to confuse them only made them sitting ducks. He'd reported back to McGonagall with all three bound. She'd been furious, but her fury was nothing compared with the utter loathing and pain he experienced from his failed attempt. He'd calmly accepted the lecture as long as he could, then turned on his heel and mechanically strode upstairs.

It was expected that someone would be sent to check on him. They would be less likely to trust him now that he'd shown his hand. He hadn't expected Hermione to be chosen as his nursemaid.

"Pro- Remus?" Her voice cut through his reverie. He resolved not to hear anything she said; she was just a child and couldn't possibly comprehend what had driven him to this. "I- I need to talk to you. You don't need to respond. In fact, it will be easier for me if you don't. I just think there's something you should know before you... kill yourself." Her voice broke for a moment and she audibly gulped.

A deep breath later, she continued, "I realize that you are beyond the point where others telling you the good they see in you will help. Here's what I feel when you're nearby: I feel excited, because I know we will discuss fascinating theories and books, able to face the things that confuse us and solve mysteries that are beyond anybody else in this house. Or we can just talk, and I feel more who I am, more alive, just from carrying on a conversation with you. You project such consideration and love that I know all those bigots who look down upon you for your affliction have never been blessed to experience.

"I feel safe, like even death would be endurable with you to bid me good-bye. I know nobody can hurt me with you here, and even if they did, you'd not think the less of me. Even suffused in darkness as you are, you don't give in to it as Severus has. You continue to give and care and love, even though cruel fate seems determined to steal it away from you. For this, I feel tremendous admiration for you. If that were all, then I wouldn't have come here, for everybody else, I imagine, feels the same way about you. Harry and Ron have admitted that studying with you is infinitely more enthralling than with anybody else. The reason I am here is because I- think I have something else to weigh you down. Since you are such an understanding and gentle man, I know that you'll accept that I have something I need to share."

Hermione blushed, and Remus could sensed the heat coming from her as she sat on his bed, her hand tremulously coming to rest on his shoulder. He'd closed his eyes long ago to try and block out the too-generous words that might convince him to change his determination. He was touched by the caring from his favorite student, but he couldn't help wishing she'd go away. Something inside him was teetering on the brink, and he'd feel much more confident if she was not there. Yet she was right. He had to help her, even if it was just as a friendly listener, since that was all he could be, now that his best friends and mentor were all dead.

"Remus, I don't know how to go about this. I don't know exactly when it started, but I remember being fascinated with you in third year. Sharing your secret made us seem a lot closer, even though we never spoke of it. You respected me as nobody else would, given my age. You saw past that, teaching me one of the most important lessons of my life." Her voice had become somewhat teary, and she stopped talking in favor of weeping. After a minute she tried to recover. Remus wanted to comfort her, but he was kept still by his desire for her to leave. "I- I'm so sorry! I told myself I wouldn't do this! I just can't bear what you've done to yourself! Throughout our stay in Grimmauld place, you've always been masked and calm, even after Sirius! And now, this! You're still calm! People say we're so similar, but look at this! The werewolf is sedate while the bookworm practically has hysterics!" She buried her face in his shoulder, allowing her shuddering sobs to shake him even as her tears sunk through his thin cloak and robes.

Remus' thoughts were churning. He had never seen Hermione like this. He so badly wanted to comfort her. "Remus," she said, hiccuping back to her normal speech. "I don't know why you should care about me, but I know you do, even though it might just be a little bit. There's no way for me to comprehend what you've endured in your life, thereby robbing you of your privacy. I am grateful for that because I do not have your strength. I couldn't do what you have done. It was this realization that led me to talk to you. It's a purely selfish reason, and I've fought the feeling as much as I could, but as soon as your motive became clear, I knew I had to buck up and tell you the truth.

"I dream of you every night. First I dreamt of your eyes, your werewolf eyes, showing me my way through the Forbidden Forest, as though you were in the sky like the moon, guiding me. Gradually you infiltrated deeper. Now I dream of you in my arms, just holding me, as all the terror of life passes us by and glances off us. I cry when I wake up and you aren't there. Your every expression, few though the ones you share are, I have come to know. Not through conscious study, but through simple comprehension. You are the one person who I respect endlessly, defend devotedly, and desire beyond reason."

Remus went tense. What-

"I love you."

He began to shake with... fear? Longing? Shock? She couldn't! It wasn't! She was too young, didn't know her own mind. But, she was Hermione. Hermione knew her own mind, she lived there with much greater permanence than her peers. There was no doubt that she was sincere, he could smell the emotions, and it was only his self-involvement that had kept him from identifying them earlier. He was grateful and flattered by the desire and passion she was feeling. But how could he accept, or even reciprocate? The world didn't work like this. He was broken, worn-out, hopeless. She was young, whole, and full of potential and purpose.

"I love you, and if you die, then I die too. Maybe not on purpose, but you have been the reason I've fought this long. My reason to live surrenders when you die. I don't mean to guilt you, as I know you are infamous for that form of self-torture. Maybe this is what you deserve. I know what it's like to have your life's dreams suddenly torn from you, only I was blessed with your return. Please don't deny this. Don't deny me the chance to know my dreams. You don't have to love me too. Just stay. Just care about me."

He felt her lean over and kiss him on his cheek, then stand up and walk across the room. He sat up suddenly, wanting to see her face. She turned as she opened the door and smiled. It was a tender smile, tempered by the pain in her brown eyes. They stared at each other, his panicked eyes questioning hers, and hers beseeching. Finally she broke the contact, looking at the ground, and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind her with a slight squeak.

Remus' thoughts were spinning. Ten minutes after Hermione had left he was still sitting on his bed, his hand massaging his forehead, occasionally coming to rest where she had kissed him on his cheek. How to react to such a declaration? How to react to his failed attempt at self-termination, the anger of his closest companions, then the love of a former student, one who was far too young to be thinking of him? He arose, paced his room for exhaustedly, then sat down, still in shock at the unexpected outcomes of the day. Reaching his hand into his bedside drawer, he pulled out a flask labeled 'dreamless sleep' and drank several mouthfuls, enough hopefully to get him through the night, or at least into blessed oblivion until he could think clearly.


	2. Exclamatory

Part II: EXCLAMATORY

Almost twelve hours later, Remus found himself awakening blearily to the protests of his vocal door closing, and the sun sitting low through his window. Blinking around the room, he spied the breakfast tray still glowing from the warming charm. Wafting scents of bacon and eggs made coming to that much faster, and the next minute saw him ignoring the rumpled state of his robes-turned-sleepwear in favor of tucking into the aroma-worthy meal. The wolfsbane potion accompanying the meal was much less enticing, yet he downed it in one well-practiced gulp, keeping his face deadpan.

Sitting back, his stomach full of Molly's good cooking, Remus allowed himself to recall why he'd taken a sleeping potion. With a groan, he rested his elbows on his knees, hands supporting his head. What to do? Running away seemed by far the most attractive option, though he couldn't do that to everyone. Besides, Hermione didn't scare him. She, Ron, and Harry were a constant reminder to everyone else in the Order with them why they were fighting. His mind couldn't seem to get past the idea that she had been his student. She was too young, too immature, she didn't know what she was saying, she just pitied him, she couldn't know the effect of her words, he thought.

Turning his analytical mind to the task, he tried to consider what effect her statement had upon him, backpedaling as he recalled that he had hoped to be killed the previous day. Clearly he had other issues he should be addressing first.

The day after a full moon was never easy, even with the Wolfsbane potion to keep him from mutilating himself. There was always a sense of loss that came with reverting to his less powerful form, along with his normal agonizing transformation. Sometimes he wished, foolishly, that he didn't have the potion, giving him an excuse to feel the pain he was sure he deserved for being the one to survive. Body aching in pain, mind reeling from the loss of his former companions, he had bided his time until the household was out. Then he stealthily left his room, ears pricked for any possible sounds. He then palmed the fog bomb from the stockpile Fred Weasley had donated to Headquarters. Then he'd apparated.

With reflection, he knew he had been beyond himself. He had not thought the matter through, and he was lucky to be alive today. He was fortunate that he had the opportunity to repay those still with him with faithful service, instead of taking the easy, ungrateful way out. His life had never seemed like a bowl of cherries, and he'd always known suffering. Though he did not wish to admit it, his carefree days with James, Sirius, and Peter were gone. The latter, a traitor, was the only one remaining. Remus might have lost his childhood with the acquisition of the wolf, but he'd never given up his thoughts on entitlement. Everyone was entitled to a good life, provided they never abused it by taking another's.

But why James and Sirius? Why Lily? Why his mentor? Why must all of this happen to people he loved! But it didn't, his mind told him. Cedric Diggory was nothing more than a memory of a bright boy in his class. The Boneses he knew only vaguely. He felt terribly attacked, as if nobody could understand his grief, but his common sense told him that everybody in the wizarding world, probably in the world, was experiencing this pain.

He wasn't alone in his losses. Obviously he was still grieving, despite the long period of time between the deaths of his friends and his crazed action the day before. That was what his mind told him. His heart echoed each conclusion with ringing despair. He was surprised to hear the sound of glass breaking. Looking down, he felt hot blood trickling down his hand, as he clenched his hand on the neck of the empty beaker. Maybe he shouldn't even take the damn potion! Then they'd see what he really was. Hermione, silly child, would give up her delusions of his goodness. His friends would turn away from him, and he'd have nothing to keep him from leaving a world that only seemed to exist to cause pain.

Growling slightly, he threw the remaining bulb of the bottle at the wall. It shattered with a satisfying explosive impact. Hearing voices downstairs, he quickly muttered a ward on the door, making it silenced, unplottable and impermeable. Staring around his completely isolated room, he felt the agonizing crush of grief. Strange. It overtook him with a hitherto unseen force, filling his body with energy and tension. Hands shaking, he pulled on his messy hair, looking around the room as if for an escape, breathing shakily. Tears leaked out of his sore eyes, surprising him. He wiped them off, only succeeding in bloodying his face with his sliced hand. He examined his hand up close, observing the lines of his palm snaking over the calluses, even as his fingers tightened into a claw. Trying to straighten it, he placed both hands on his temples, palms on his cheeks, attempting to breathe evenly. He failed.

He sank onto the floor, the breathing giving way to hiccups then body-wracking sobs, while grinding his hands to his head, as if to stop the thoughts from occurring, even though this emotional abuse was somewhat of a relief. Never since before the night of Voldemort's first defeat had he allowed himself to lose his iron grip on himself. They were gone! He had no home, no loved ones, only people to protect. His entire life he'd spent protecting others from himself. He'd been tolerant of the slights, the insults, the discrimination. He hadn't had a decent childhood.

Poor bastard, he'd never been a child! His mum didn't know how to protect herself from him, so he had to take the precautions before and during Hogwarts, in addition to taking care of the house and board. He was always alone. He was doomed to lose all those he cared about. It wasn't FAIR! He was just as good as others, better, even than those Death Eaters who got so much pleasure out of the suffering of others. "Life isn't fair," his sensible side chided him before being slain by his abrupt inflamed fury.

Yelling something incoherent, he flung himself out of his self-pitying crouch and into the wall in front of him, pummeling the tapestry decorating it. Finding the tapestry representative of all the structures and restrictions the world placed upon his life, he ripped it down with super-human strength, tearing into pieces before throwing them aside. Panting for a moment, he discovered his other dishes by the door, patiently awaiting a concerned caretaker's removal. Instead, he yelled, "IT'S NOT FAIR! They were MINE! I'VE NEVER HAD ANYONE THAT WAS MINE!" as he overturned the tarnished silver tray with a Black coat of arms upon it. He alternated throwing a dish or utensil at the wall with every word. "I- never- chose- this- I've- never- done- anything- to- deserve- this! I didn't ask for much! I JUST WANTED TO BE BLOODY HAPPY!"

Tears cascaded down his cheeks, and he scrubbed them away with a sheet from his bed, smearing it with blood and saltwater. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHH! Nobody can possibly understand how hard it is to get up every bloody morning, knowing somebody else I LOVE will DIE! Because, really, nobody I love survives long. DAMN YOU, PETER PETTIGREW! YOU DIMWITTED UNSCRUPULOUS MURDERER EXCUSE FOR A MARAUDER! THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO MADE ME TRULY HAPPY, CONTENT, JOYFUL, WORTHY OF LIFE ARE DEAD! THEY DIED, DAMMIT! First James and Lily. JAMES, you deserter, you left me! You said we'd always be friends, and you'd keep me from being penniless! You LIED! You LEFT. LILY, if you hadn't taken him away, he might still be alive today." In a softer tone, "damn you, Harry, for being so wonderful. And then you needed Sirius. He was my best friend FIRST! You never had to lose them, because they were ALREADY GONE! I had them. I loved and lost, and bloody hell be my witness, it's not jolly damn well any better!

DUMBLEDORE! You damn imbecilic, obtuse, slowwitted, barmy, foolish, decrepit, senile old man! You were not allowed to leave us! I STILL NEEDED YOU! How we won this bloody mess, if victory it can be called, I'll never bloody know." Remus' bed was now utterly demolished, his sheets torn and smeared with the coppery blood streaming unstaunched from his wound, scattered all over the room. His feather pillows had long ago been momentarily satisfyingly destroyed, causing the white feathers to be still fluttering carefree about the room. It was at this moment when he noticed the sun's final wave as it wrapped itself in the darkness of the city. A shudder ran through his still taut form. Knowing his pain would be passing his high threshold soon, he was reminded of the impetus for this paroxysm: little Hermione Granger.

"Little girl, GET OUT OF MY LIFE! You'll just up and DIE on me too, I know it! You're just something else sent from the cruel gods to give me another reason to hope, until I, too, expire from the anguish. One can only take so much provocation! I wanted so much more than this!" As rigidity seized his form, indicating the few seconds he had before becoming truly lupine. He ran to his window, despite the aggravator waiting for him on the other side other glass, shining benignly behind a cloud. "VOLDEMORT! Come and get me! You didn't die before, you bloodsucking freak! Surely you could come back just long enough to kill me! TAKE ME! Bring them all back, but PLEASE! Please take me!" His voice broke as his body was seized by shakes as the cloud dissipated. He whimpered, "I don't want to be here anymore..."


	3. Interrogatory

PART III: INTERROGATORY

"Remus?" A hesitant voice roused him from unconsciousness to the awareness of the fatigue accompanying transformation. "Are you awake, Professor Lupin?"

He allowed himself a moment to raise an eyebrow internally at being called 'Professor' when he was recovering from being a hairy man-eating monster and currently only wore a sheet for clothing. Reluctantly he opened his eyes only to shut them immediately, the light shocking his dilated pupils. "Miss Granger, I believe we can dispense with the title, as I happen to know for a fact you know my name. And, Hermione, pull the shade down for an old man, won't you?"

He took particular delight in the frustration that reference to his age must have caused her. His hurtful glee was short-lived. "If it's that much of a problem, you decrepit antique, then you may close it yourself. I've had quite enough to do, repairing your room from your little temper tantrum." Her voice had dramatically changed from concernedly inquiring to scornfully snappish. Perhaps she liked him better when he wasn't awake; it was certainly a much simpler encounter for him.

His own voice became pointed, as he opened his eyes to express his disdain. "I certainly apologize if my emotional breakdown and subsequent metamorphosis into a werewolf upset your weekend tea-party plans. Perhaps you can reschedule them for when I go on another mission?"

She stopped her bustling around his room to strike him with a glance, immobilizing as a poniard. In a disgustingly sweet voice she inquired, "What? You'd miss my tea-party? What could you be doing that could possibly keep you? Ineptly killing yourself, maybe?"

The growl percolating from his throat surprisingly didn't elicit any reaction beyond an eye-batting. "Look, love, I don't see where that becomes your business!"

"I know you weren't asleep when I told you I loved you, but I'll say it again: I am in love with you, Remus! I will have no one else, and my happiness is inextricably tied to yours. So, sweetheart, I will not hesitate to reschedule future social events for your transformations, but if you insist upon offing yourself, I'm afraid we won't be getting on very well. And since you are currently in your dotage, I have no doubt that I shall win that particular battle."

Grabbing the underclothes she held out for him embarrassedly, he haltingly clothed himself. With her back turned she was just as infuriating. "And how, exactly, do you propose to make me so deliriously happy? Everyone else who has went and 'offed' themselves, so who am I to argue with the likes of Dumbledore and Potter? Or perhaps you plan to just curse happiness into me? A twenty-four hour cheering charm would hardly do the trick."

"A strong dose of muggle drugs, more like," she muttered under her breath. "First of all, everyone you love is not dead. Secondly, I will do my damnedest to show you that there is still something in this world worth living for!" She paused. "Bloody hell, Remus. And I thought I'd fallen for the reasonable Marauder." She took a deep breath, calming herself. He could see the bright red color leaving her cheeks as her posture became that of confidence, voice still shaky. "Please don't say anything else. I love you to the exclusion of everything else, and it's agony seeing you so far from yourself. I wish I could hold up a mirror for you, show you as you really are, not this monster-self you've created."

He spied the glimmer of tears in her eyes and immediately felt shame. No matter how she interfered, he shouldn't take out his anger at himself on her. "Miss Granger, I'm sorry. I apologize for being inexcusably uncouth and unappreciative of the concern you've rightfully expressed." He, now dressed fully, drew her down so she sat on the bed with him. He should have known better, that nobody could endure it! He could barely stand it! And he wasn't acting like himself. His behavior had been a request for chastisement.

She shook her head at him fondly, "That's Remus, aright, but you shouldn't be apologizing. You're miserable, I understand that. You need to take out your rage on somebody, and I'm glad it's me, since I know you so well." Her expression took on a plaintive quality, "Why can't you live, though? There's so much out there, Remus! I hardly count myself as the greatest of these, but I do love you. I'll live with you and adore you and bear your children, if you desire them. I'll make hot chocolate at midnight and stand in line for the newest defense book at Flourish and Blot's. I'd be so blessed to be the one you direct the love you hold towards I'd cherish the wolf, a part of you that conflicts with your being but has made you into the strong man you are today. You're a strong man, with the mistaken impression that the world wouldn't be noticeably dimmer without you." He stared at her in disbelief, once again dumbed by her artless confession. By this point she was looking anywhere but in his eyes, so he craned his neck so her vision, fastened upon his collar buttons, was filled with him.

"Remus..." They had been staring at each other for several moments, entranced by each others' eyes. He wasn't even aware of her leaning in until her eyes closed. All he registered was the humid warmth of her breath and a brief brush upon his lips before he jerked away from her, one hand on her shoulder, the other awkwardly forcing her back by the hair atop her head.

"NO! You say you know me well, but you could very well be mistaken for my daughter." Remus turned his back on her, once again attacking his stringy sandy-grey hair and allowing anger to empower his voice. "You still have your precious best friends, while mine were all killed for the sake of yours! You dispute my right to end my life, saying yours is worth remaining for! That may well be true, but I have closed that door! If I live again, love again, trials beyond your understanding await me. It's not worth the risk! I'm not worth the risk! You don't know what you ask of me! My life is cursed! You speak as if it is some trifle that I can easily perform, but you do not acknowledge the torture you request of me!"

Only just recovered from the almost-kiss, she frowned and faced him, standing to gain greater height. "Remus John Lupin! How dare you! I tell you I love you, your friends entrust their legacy and child to you,... Dumbledore DIES for you!" The werewolf flinched in remembered sorrow. "You seem to think that your current difficulties are the result of your unworthiness, or some such hogwash, when in fact it is your own attitude and purposeful isolation that is to blame! Why do you fight?"

Eyes boring into him provoked an answer, "W-why? I fight because it's the only thing to do."

Some approval shone in her eyes as she questioned, "Other than submit to Voldemort's beliefs, you mean?" He nodded carelessly, eager for the line of questioning to cease. "There, that is one noble quality you possess. You fight for the light because it is the light, because to live for it is to abhor the darkness. And yet you are unworthy and considering death? How are you better than the Death Eaters if you also seek to control the natural course of life and death? Now, for whom do you risk your life?"

Remus laughed hollowly, this was a question he'd been asking himself with increasing frequency, "I fight for the repressive bigots in the Ministry. I fight for a system so corrupt it hires dementors. I fight for a race no better than muggles except we have more personal and painful methods of murder. I fight for a world that contains more latent hatred in its most innocent member than in the most painful of curses. I fight for the right of human beings to harm their weaker members. I fight for those who fear ME, who look upon me as inferior and lacking in control, as if I am the threat they must fear above all others." The bitterness in his voice during this tirade was regrettable, but how could he not be bitter?

"And do you agree? I can tell by your tone that you do not. Your lycanthropy has ever been something inflicted upon you by the narrow-mindedness of society, and the cruelty of a madman. Still you have come to believe that what they say is true, no matter how much 'penance' you perform, merit you present, or how many innocents you preserve. You are the best of men, Remus Lupin;" the werewolf rose to avoid the compliment he did not deserve, "the great irony is that you cannot see it. Perhaps that is the insistence of your modesty or the force of habit, but as far as you are concerned, your perspective is entirely skewed." Hermione's hair, long ago in the argument having come out of her loose ponytail, emphasized each vehement shake of her head, even as her brown eyes, already showing evidence of her bibliophilic habit, radiated energy and passion throughout her oration.

"Allow me to ask this," she continued," why don't you say you fight for Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of recent history, murdered righteously affirming that the future lay upon his sacrifice for the younger generation? Why don't you fight for Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the man who, like yourself, grew up far too fast from the interference of selfish beings lacking the love you both share indiscriminately with the world? Why don't you fight for the Weasleys? Molly and Arthur have lost children to this pointless conflict! It's said there is nothing more painful than your child passing before you can. Your friends died loving you, believing in the sacrifice they made! Percy didn't even have the chance to atone for his harsh words, to soften the blow before he was dishonorably slaughtered. Ron refused to leave Harry's side while he recovered from the final battle! Fight for him!

Why not fight for Tonks? Her decision was not meant to be a sign for your own fate! She, like you, loved unwisely, and expressed herself by causing Kingsley a lifetime of guilt for letting her leave on that mission! Without this war, she might have been a mother, with morphing little monsters of children, causing more trouble with their appearances than Fred and George! Fight for those children, Remus! And since you consider me to be such a child, fight for me, Harry Potter's know-it-all friend who was so involved in books that she fell for her tutor!"

The mood in the room calmed with Hermione's last statement, strangely enough, and Remus was able to look at her with tortured eyes at last. Ignoring his expression of hopelessness, she took both his hands in hers, took a thoughtful breath, and spoke as if to reach his soul.

"Lily proved it all those years ago: it is love that will heal us, Professor! Why does it matter if it is romantic, platonic, or charitable? Find it, Remus! I don't care if it is with me. Somewhere along the way you allowed the generous, passionate, considerate, perceptive man I love to be stifled. I will not permit you to leave this life without him. My own love for you, while not entirely unselfish, knows that sometimes one cannot survive. All I demand of you is that when you kill yourself, you're bloody well not being the selfish bugger I've heard this past half-hour!" Squeezing his hands before releasing them, Hermione gave him a tender smile. She purposefully strode to the door, calling over her shoulder, after an audible deep breath, "Dinner is in an hour. If you are not there, I will inflict hexes upon you the thought of which would have struck terror in Sirius Black.

"Understood, professor?"

ShyMoonlight: I hope this one was up to your expectations! No more tears, I hope:(

fadedglory: Here it is! And merci beaucoup!

Nutz Nina: Thanks so much! I cried a little writing it, so it's gratifying that you felt it too.

wildace keladry2005: fully intend to keep it up, appreciate the encouragement! And RHr is wonderful! Check out siriusly lupine's Man of the Night, and EvilCatHater's Gone Simply Insane- they're my current faves!

shadowgirl75: Don't you just want to sweep in and make it all better? I'm wrestling now with having Hermione do that without making it trite.

siriusly lupine: Again, thanks. :)

dotdotdot: hope you're happy with part 2 and so on! Your review made me smile!

R J Lupin's Kat: You wrote an absolutely beautiful review. My gratitude.

michelle: Here's the "more" you so flatteringly requested!

Malfoy's Love Twins: No, there is nothing "pervish" about this. Yes, the "raw animal-like quality" comprises a goodly amount of Remus' appeal, but what makes him my favorite is the innate goodness and morality of him that prevents him from just "picking" what he wants. He doesn't even know how to accept what he wants because he's so unused to the experience. There's no need to be scared. My aunt married her professor a few years after graduation and they remained in love and entirely NOT pervish. They were both extremely intelligent scientists; besides, in order for Remus to be a pedophiliac, she would have to be under the age of consent. This is postwar, and she's asking him to add his consent to hers.

Sorry about this dissertation, but Remus isn't the type to put anyone else or their reputation in jeopardy. I can't even see canon Remus being like Remus in my story, since he would never consent to such a thing. Damn infuriating man, forcing us to create fictional happiness for him!

IMPORTANT AUTHOR NOTE!

Anyhow, I'm having health problems, so I don't know exactly when the final chapter will be up. I might be sent away to a program where they don't allow a computer, and if so, you have my most abject apologies. I hate it when that happens with stories. I want to finish this; what's wrong with Remus feels a lot like what's wrong with me, and if I can't heal myself, I want to help him. I figured it would be better to post this as an AN than as another chapter... I'd hate to tease you like that.

Merry Christmas/HAPPY HOLIDAYS! to all, and, if I am deprived of my beloved Macintosh, Have a Happy 2006!


	4. Imperative

PART IV: IMPERATIVE

As a child, Remus Lupin had always determined to make the absolute most of his twisted life, combating the lunar physicality with mental acuity at all other times. It shouldn't matter that he lost control once a month; after all, his female friends did it with much less regularity and predictability! And that was without mentioning the Id personified that was Sirius Black! Sadly, however, that flippant careless attitude was lost with the onset of true maturity. Life became a constant restitution for Greyback's umbrage.

It was brutal that his life should be further complicated by the loss of many of his strongest supports and friends.

After dinner, once again ensconced in his cell-turned-confessor, Remus allowed himself to relax upon his bed, thinking meanwhile, how very much Hermione had reminded him of Molly Weasley for a moment as she left. A strangled vocalization split the quiet of his room.

He laughed again.

Amazing how so much choler from the previous events in his sanctuary could be dispelled by uninhibited laughter. He laughed at Hermione's upset that he would miss her tea-party, at Molly's indignation towards his revulsion of spinach casserole. Harry's face when Severus begged his pardon for upsetting his glass of water, Fred Weasley's not-to-subtle attempt to get his girlfriend alone, and the resemblance of the centerpiece to Hermione's untameable hair all prompted uncharacteristic chortles from him, not heard since the days of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

His door slammed open, revealing Hermione's concerned face, followed by those of Molly, Ron, Harry, Fred, and Moody's scent could be detected through the wall. Remus shut his mouth, but his stomach vibrated, the corners of his mouth turning inexorably up. He clapped his hands to his mouth as an incredible guffaw escaped him, making the onlookers look at each other, obviously telepathically inquiring whose strait jacket was more conveniently located. Remus attempted to get up, and it worked for a second before he fell upon his knees, forced by his jolliness to point at them and laugh uproariously.

Hermione was the first to crack. Her pleasure at seeing Remus whole for a change transformed her face into a smile, prompting a couple of answering gleeful laughs from her throat. She jumped forward and tried to give him a hug, landing on her bum, at which event, the comic value of Remus fruitlessly striving to look apologetic as his whole body shook broke whatever reserve she maintained. She leaned against Remus with tears of amusement leaking periodically out of her wrinkled eyes, joining him in wholehearted laughter.

Ron edged closer to Harry unconsciously, his always easily-read face declaring his fear for his safety near Lupin. Unfortunately for him, he was noticed, and the hilarity was catching. Harry smirked, feeling the bubbles of merriment rising in him, even as he experienced triumph for Remus' obvious happiness.

Harry giggled.

Moody snorted at Harry.

Molly observed them all in bewilderment, eyes sparkling as her expression fought between sternness and humor.

Ron nervously laughed at Harry's reaction, then couldn't stop upon seeing his mother lose her poise.

Fred observed everyone deadpan, then apparated away. Only a few moments of unadulterated joy later, the two Weasley twins reappeared, rolling on the floor in the throws of hysterical levity.

This gleeful exuberance continued for only a few more minutes, as breathing does become a necessity, even for wizards. Remus and Hermione didn't notice as Mrs. Weasley ushered, and in Fred and George's case, levitated, everyone out of the room, still sniggering.

Finally reaching the aftermath of the temporary insanity, Remus observed a flushed Hermione wiping the tears from her face and hands. She caught his eyes, hope and humor calling most loudly from her changing expression. Leaning forward, she clasped him in a tight embrace, sighing with the relief of a patient faithful lover for a soldier returned from beyond hope. "I cannot describe how seeing your smile has cured me."

Hugging her back, Remus found himself naturally reaching with one hand to support her neck against him, the other clutching her waist as if her loss was an expected event he could not bear to face.

Sitting there, silently holding each other, there was inclination, no need for the next few minutes to contain actions, so they remained, in a caress of quietude.

Regretfully, the pair disengaged as if by mutual consent. Needing to distance himself from the previous moments, he stood up and leaned against the wall, several feet from Hermione's seat on the floor. The corners of her mouth curved up, attempting to hide the fear of his rejection. They both knew that was what this scene should hold, by the standards of many.

Remus broke the peace, speaking as gently as he could, "You know that I, at least, am not 'cured' by any means, and that such a cure does not, in fact exist? I cannot turn around from a suicide experience and embrace life with a carefree heart." Admitting it out loud, though he had known it was his doom since childhood still brought a fresh batch of grief, even just for the sad state of his own existence. "I am grateful beyond words that you thought me worthy of battling my worser self, and you may be sure that I will recall your fierce words when I am most lost."

"I am so relieved and proud!" Obviously wanting to support him with a hug, Hermione fought her impulse and spoke instead the truth of her anxiety, "But can't I be there to speak to you? Must we rely upon memories of each other to keep us alive!"

"No, of course," Remus replied cautiously. "We'll remain friends. That's-"

"Friends? Remain friends? Why, how long has _this _been going on? I had no idea we were friends!"

"Hermione-"

"No, hear me out! First, I was your student. Perhaps we were friends then, but you went away to work for the Order, and I grew up. Next we were guests in the same house, civil acquaintances I would call us, or if anything, I was still your charge until I left school. Even then you kept to the role of protector, and you have no idea how much obsessive and stalker-like observing it took to get to know the real you- and don't look at me! I didn't mean it like that! Must everybody in this dratted house have a mind like a Weasley boy!" She paused for breath. Shaking her bushy hair she continued, "That was in the past. In the last twenty-four hours I declared my love for you and somehow convinced you to preserve your life. And we're 'remaining friends!'"

"As I was trying to tell you before, with considerably fewer histrionics, it would be imprudent as well as incredibly destructive to even discuss a relationship of the kind you wish to attempt while I am such an unholy mess." Remus was showing a few signs of irritation.

"Why?" She barked. "Do you think I cannot support you? Do you think I am afraid of the wolf? Are you afraid of needing someone? You cannot even say 'love'!"

Irritation was the least of her worries now. His wolfish pride roused itself. "Miss, I do not need to be supported, I don't need your approval, and I am NOT afraid of you! It is common sense that when one is in a less-than-stable mental state, it is bloody stupid to try and be with anyone else! I cannot believe how selfish you're being!"

If one listened carefully, which is impossible when blood is rushing in one's ears, one could hear the slight creaking outside from an eavesdropper. Her fury joined his, strengthened by hurt. "WHY REMUS LUPIN! I'M selfish! I love you so much I'd give my life for yours, I told you! How could you say that?"

He winced. "Perhaps a better way of sharing that would have been to question your maturity, but I was wary to do that. If you really love me, you'll wait." 'Bloody hell,' he thought, 'I sound like some ingénue protecting her virginity in a cheap comedy.'

She recognized the humor, as well as the sense, in that remark. Her facial flush diminished as her rage subsided. "But-" Her lip pouted. He could see that her delicate girlish fantasy of Florence Nightengale-ing him to health broke now it had more reality than romance. Her gaze at him was having a definite response, but he knew that if he could make a life, someday, with Hermione, he did not want to be responsible for ruining it as he had her fairy tale love story.

And truly, how long could she be expected to wait? He was only getting older, and she must have turned down many men, perhaps some in the house, in her love for him. True, young love often did not last, but she was right. If any man deserved a try at happiness at last, it was him. He deserved to be adored by a woman who would keep him young with her lively discussions and youthful passions. She deserved a man who would treasure her for her prodigal wisdom, her instinctive heart, and her precious love for him. And, he realized, he was that man.

While he'd lost himself in thought, Hermione had grown resigned to his refusal to consider her love. She visually deflated, slowly stepping to her feet, seeming smaller than she had in the midst of her fury when she'd been seated on the floor. A light sigh escaped her lips, and she turned to the door.

"Wait." His voice, calm and rational as he could make it, was able to halt her progress. "You know this is the right thing to do? You know we shouldn't rush into decisions that could harm us?"

"I-" Her voice was scratchy all of a sudden. "I suppose so."

"After all, if anything were to happen, you'd no doubt want it to happen naturally, as a result of pure romantic love, not polluted by emotional neediness." She nodded, obviously not hearing him. "Since I don't think you understand, let me give you a point of comparison until then-"

Smoothly, he stepped in her path, raised her arms to his shoulders, and lifted her chin. A few tears of pain showed in her eyes, amplifying the confusion he'd hoped to create. A step closer had her trembling as he tenderly smiled into her eyes. The kiss was short by make-out standards, but by no means a chaste peck. He directed his newly-realized love, his despised neediness, his willingness to try, and his fear of failing her into it, which was quite enough to overwhelm the bookish young woman. He was overwhelmed in turn by the emotions she kindled in him. Several momentary doubts about putting off the relationship endangered his resolution to take some time off before declaring his own unforeseen amorous partiality.

He pulled away, giving them a chance to share awe-filled and admiring glances. When Hermione made to 'improve' upon it, Remus stepped back further, an amused but still desirous look on his face. "While my whimsy would gladly be whisked away by you, I refuse to allow yourself to be used so cheaply. This, whatever it ends up being, will start off slowly. We'll be friends first, is this acceptable?"

She just smiled at him, admiring both his physical attributes, so recently experienced in their embrace, as well as his courtesy and higher values evidenced by his restraint. If this was what he needed, her face showed, she would wait, at least for a little while, until he sorted himself out. Her eyebrow said that he'd better hurry.

Remus crossed back to her and squeezed her tightly, finally counting her among his blessings. As she left the room, floating, he put his hand to his mouth and decided something.

'We will definitely have to do that again.'


End file.
